Invested
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: It's a Terrible Life tag: He remembers being Dean Smith. All of it.


_First appeared in _Hunting on the Net 17 _(2012), from Neon Rainbow Press_

**Invested**  
K Hanna Korossy

"Still checking the obits?" Sam asked as he shoved the door shut with his heel. He unloaded the two bags and the tray of coffees onto the motel table, peering over his brother's shoulder as he did. "What's so— Dude, are you reading the business section?" He rounded the table to stare incredulously at Dean.

Dean shrugged, clearly uncomfortable at being caught out, and tossed the paper aside. "I was looking for the comics. D'you bring donuts?"

Sam snagged the discarded paper, scanning the page Dean had been absorbed in. It was a page of stock listings, not even an article. He looked over the top of the paper at Dean, who was assiduously ignoring him as he pawed through the bags Sam had brought.

"Dude, Boston cream? Seriously?"

"There's jelly and chocolate in the other bag," Sam said distractedly. "Dean…"

"I remember some stuff, okay?" Dean's voice was muffled by the bag he was practically crawling into. Sam doubted the donuts were that fascinating, but it was SOP when Dean was embarrassed: distract, avoid, fixate elsewhere. "From Dean Smith." He was down to a mumble.

Sam started at that. He had some vague memories from Sam Wesson's life, mostly about his boring job and cramped apartment. But his work had mostly been doing the kind of tech stuff he did in their life on the road, no special knowledge required. Dean's, however…

"Oh, man." Dean was making sinful noises around his donut, a powdered sugar mustache above his lip. "That's good stuff."

He wasn't exactly gung ho about life since their foray into the corporate world, the glimpse just enough to keep him going. Food, however, seemed to have gained a whole new level of appreciation in Dean's eyes. Sam enjoyed watching him ravish a steak or wax rhapsodic over an especially good piece of pie, apparently a holdover from Dean Smith's health-conscious diet.

It made sense that other things would have lingered, too.

With burgeoning suspicion, Sam snaked an arm over to Dean's duffle on the floor.

By the time his brother got over his donut and noticed what Sam was doing, Sam had found what he was looking for.

"Give me that!" Dean grabbed for his bag. "Dude, that's my stuff! You ever hear about—"

"—Biggersons Inc., General Motors, _Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc_.? How… Dean, you've got, like, _thousands_ invested in stocks?" Sam looked up from the statements to stare at him, goggle-eyed.

"Ten thousand," Dean muttered as he grabbed the papers out of Sam's hand and stuffed them back into the side pocket of his bag. "I invested some money, okay? It makes sense with Biggersons' quarterlies and Sandover's rising—" Dean suddenly caught himself and flushed. "Never mind."

"Dean…" Sam started, not sure where he was going after that.

Dean rounded on him with surprising vehemence. "I saved that money for you, Sam, for when I was gone, and you didn't spend it. So I figured, might as well do something with it, right? Get _something_ useful out of that little angel-LSD trip?"

He was self-conscious about his newly acquired business savvy, Sam was slow to realize in his lingering shock, about being the egghead he always teased Sam for being. And…he was still socking away money. Probably still for Sam.

His teasing smile softened. "Yeah," he said as sincerely as he could manage. "Sounds good."

Dean gave him a suspicious look before zipping up every single pocket of the duffle and shoving it under his bed. "You better not have gotten me any of your weird coffees," he grumbled, still defensive.

Sam had finally recovered enough that he could give a proper response. "Actually, I heard about this master cleanse thing…"

Dean kicked the chair out from under him before he could finish.

Maybe this wasn't what the angels had had in mind with their little alternate-reality lesson, Sam thought as he ducked under the table, laughing. But if that was what it took to see a spark of real interest and fun again in Dean's eyes, he was all for it.

And from the next morning on, he'd be picking up _The Wall Street Journal_ with breakfast.

**The End**


End file.
